


A Slow Kind

by fel24601



Series: Ruby Red [6]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Family, Family Fluff, Fatherhood, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M, POV Simon Snow, Post-Canon, Ruby Snow-Pitch, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, simon and baz are great dads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 19:45:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17168213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fel24601/pseuds/fel24601
Summary: Set two years after Ruby Red.The Snow-Pitches dance in their living room.





	A Slow Kind

**Author's Note:**

> I think I've officially run out of relevant red-related titles. RIP my cute theme
> 
> This one came to me this afternoon so I busted it out and here it is. Feedback is welcome, as well as suggestions/requests for this little series. 
> 
> Merry merry, and happy new year!

SIMON

 

It was lamplit and warm in the flat. I wiped some slush from the toe of my boot onto the welcome mat while I shrugged off my sleet-dampened scarf and coat. There was soft music coming from somewhere further in. I crept toward the kitchen with the groceries and set them gently on the counter. The remnants of dinner were still all about the kitchen— an unwashed pan, plates in the sink, cutting board covered in scraps sitting out.

There were voices in the living room, soft and quiet.

I was drained, completely exhausted from a long day at the bakery and the children’s home and running errands for my family. I wanted nothing more than to give Ruby a hug and curl up on the couch with Baz for the rest of the evening. But I heard quiet laughter along with the tinkling music and steeled myself for a little more work, first. I unpacked the groceries as quick as possible, and relocated some of the mess to the dishwasher while I was at it. I moved a covered dish from one of the fridge shelves to make room for butter and eggs. It was a full plate dished up for me, ready to be reheated. Heavy on the potatoes, the way Baz knew I preferred. I moved it to the front of the fridge, for once Ruby was tucked into bed. It was just about her bedtime anyway. She’d been staying up a little later than usual in the last few weeks, because in the two years since she’d joined our family we’d both gotten embarrassingly soft.

Necessary work done, I followed the sounds of the music and the happiness to the living room, and leaned against the doorway to enjoy the sight before me.

The music coming through the speaker was something grand and classical, one of the old symphonies Baz was trying to expose Ruby to in order to further her musical education. It was slow and swaying and cheerful. And apparently a good one to dance to.

Ruby was beaming up at Baz, who towered terrifically over her. He’d evidently had his hair up in a bun at some point in the day and had taken it down, because it was wavy and full in a way that he rarely allowed but that I adored. He had the sleeves of one of my jumpers pushed up to his elbows, and Ruby’s little hands held delicately in his long fingers. And they were dancing— Ruby leading them in what must have been a waltz, slowly turning and moving about the room in time with the music.

Ruby was laughing as she spun them around, and as they turned I saw on Baz’s face the widest, brightest smile in his arsenal. The one the world had been graced with only a handful of times. Ruby and I were certainly the ones who had seen it most.

He tucked his hair behind his ear while he twirled Ruby under one arm, and then they laughed at the same time and I had to look up at the ceiling for a long moment to will the sudden sting out of my eyes. A lovely warmth came over me while I watched them, lit up gold by the lamp by the couch and waltzing around in stocking feet. The top of Ruby’s head came barely up to Baz’s waist. His hands reached all the way down to hold hers. They looked happy. Relaxed. So beautiful.

It took a few revolutions of their dance for them to notice me, tucked in the doorway.

“Dad!” Ruby cried, turning her head to keep me in her sight over her shoulder while she continued to waltz. Baz looked up then and saw me too, and blinded me with another of those arresting smiles. My heart thumped.

“Dad, watch!” Ruby said, while Baz spun her again. As though I could look away. “Father taught me to waltz!”

“And he let you lead?” I asked. He never let me lead.

Ruby grinned up at Baz. “Father says anyone who tells me I shouldn’t lead isn’t worth dancing with.”

“Father is very wise,” I said. “And he’s an excellent dancer, you’re learning from the best.”

“Can you dance?” she asked me.

Baz answered for me before I could open my mouth. “Not in the slightest,” he said, with a look over his shoulder that made my heart flutter. “But he’s nice to dance with anyway.” He gestured with a tilt of his head. “Feel free to cut in, Snow.”

I grinned. Ruby paused her steps to look up at me as I came over. I bowed and offered my hand to her. “May I have this dance?”

“You may,” she said, with a cool stare so distinctly Baz it nearly stopped me in my tracks. Baz graciously stepped out and Ruby placed her hands in mine, and then she led me through the waltz. (A little more slowly and carefully than she had with Baz, and she watched my feet as though I might step on her toes. I couldn’t blame her.)

Baz caught my eye while I waltzed with our little girl. He was gorgeous—he raked a hand through his tousled hair and looked on with fond amusement. I struggled to gaze enough at both of them, at my beautiful husband looking on lovingly and my seven year old daughter holding my hands and brilliantly ballroom dancing with me.

When the song ended we stopped, and I bowed and she curtsied. Baz applauded softly, and stepped in to kiss my forehead.

“Welcome home, by the way,” he murmured, a hand on my arm.

Ruby gripped Baz’s hand in both her own and tugged. “One more dance, please father?”

Baz glanced at his watch, and then at me. It was just past her agreed upon bedtime. We both looked to Ruby, eager and smiling and sweet.

He gave me his _‘trust me’_ look, so I did.

“Very well,” he said, nodding seriously at Ruby. “But not a waltz. This is a different kind of dance.”

The new song began. Whether he’d planned it I couldn’t decide, but it had a distinct lullaby feel to it.

“What kind, then?” Ruby asked, just as Baz reached down and lifted her all the way up.

She was getting a bit big to carry around, but no matter. Baz held her tight and she gleefully flung her arms around his neck. “A slow kind,” he said, his voice low.

“That’s the best kind,” I said, and he smiled at me over Ruby’s shoulder. She giggled, taking the time to smooth Baz’s long hair back with her small hands while he gently rocked them side to side, spinning in a slow circle. Baz gazed at Ruby like she was the very most precious thing, which of course she was. I watched him watch her, watched his grey eyes get wide and bright and just a little pinched with emotion. And then Ruby set her head on his shoulder the way she had a million times before and his eyes snapped shut and his arms held her closer. And a few minutes later his plot came to fruition (because the bastard is always plotting, just nowadays it’s usually for my benefit) and I saw one of Ruby’s little arms fall limp against his shoulder. I followed him as he carried her to her room. We woke her just enough to help her change into pyjamas and brush her teeth, but another minute in Baz’s arms while the song kept playing and she dozed right off again. We tucked her blanket around her and brushed her hair from her cheeks, and crept out. 

Baz’s hand found mine while I silently slipped Ruby’s door shut, and then he was towing me back toward the music with single-minded focus. I could only grin while he pulled me to a stop in the living room and set his hands on my waist, stepping in close.

I held in a teasing comment about how soft he’d gone and just draped my arms over his shoulders, because I desperately wanted to. And as soon as I realized that he had a slow dance in mind, not a waltz (blessedly,) I took the opportunity to press my face into the side of his long neck, too, and just breathe him in. The song had a lovely ebb and flow to it. We swayed a little, hardly moving really, just pulled each other closer and closer. Baz’s hands slowly slid from my waist to all the way around my back, and mine moved up into his gloriously unsecured hair.

His nose brushed my skin and I took the hint, lifting my face from his neck to kiss him. And kiss him and kiss him, because he followed my lips whenever I withdrew. I ran my hands down his chest to give myself a moment to catch my breath, and a laugh slipped out of me. Baz kissed my hair, and I looked up to see a slight pink flush on his cheeks.

“Relax,” I murmured, and he met my eyes with a sceptical look. “It’s just me. I’ve known how soft you can get for ages now.”

His cheeks got pinker in the second before he hid his face in my hair again. “I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about.”

“It’s true.”

“I love you.”

“I know. I love you too.”

And we danced until there were no more songs.


End file.
